


The Talk.

by SimpleZebras



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Just after E03, Little bit of Fluff, Little bit of angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-19 06:20:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1459111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimpleZebras/pseuds/SimpleZebras
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Athos cannot go on another moment without explaining to d'Artagnan what happened as they both watched his home burn down. But after he explained what happened that night, the unexpected happens and Athos cannot believe what he is feeling.<br/>(Post-E03)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Talk.

After happily handing the coward Emile Bonnaire over to the Spanish the four Musketeers sat down at the table in the harbours only tavern. It was a nice place to stay and have a few drinks. Laugh about the day, themselves and times where situations much like this were the same.

Athos plastered a small smile on his face to satisfy his brothers, though the smile was a lie. His body may have been in that tavern, but his heart and mind were with his old home. Nothing but ashes now. Nothing but broken, unwanted memories.  He thought back to that night and remembered how d’Artagnan had risked his life to save his own. He remembered how he had told the young man what had happened there, all those years ago. After it, he expected d’Artagnan to leave him. He thought the boy would call him a monster and lose all the respect he previously had for him. But that was not the case.

It seemed the gascon had grown to respect him more with this new knowledge. He had not left his side but stayed with him the entire time. He had listened without judgement and that had caused Athos’s heart to swell with relief and something else he could not quite put his finger on.

“Right. I think we should get back to Paris. Coming?” Aramis rises and stretches throwing a few livres on the table. Porthos quickly follows suit but Athos desperately wanted to talk to d’Artagnan about what had happened. He wanted the proper chance to explain himself, and even more so now that he was sober and not completely and utterly wasted.

He turned to catch the boy’s eyes, but to his surprise, d’Artagnan was already looking at him. Something in Athos’ gaze must have told the boy that they had to talk privately for he turned to his two friends and shook his head.

“Athos and I are going to stay here for a while longer. Don’t miss us too much.” D’Artagnan smirked as Porthos laughed and Aramis grinned.

“Alright. We’ll see you two idiots tomorrow. Don’t drink too much Athos. Wouldn’t want d’Art to have to carry you back to Paris.”

Aramis chuckled and added, “I don’t think he could manage it.”

They both hastily left the tavern getting chased by d’Artagnan’s protests. Despite his current mood Athos smiled and shook his head, taking another swig of his wine. He did enjoy their banter. It was something he never had before the Musketeers and was just another reason he hadn’t gone back to being the Comte de la Fére. Although there was so many other reasons and that’s what he wanted to talk to his friend about. D’Artagnan turned back to Athos and put his hands on the wooden table.

“Okay. I’m guessing you want to talk about what happened...” Athos simply looked up from his mug and nodded.

Leaning back against the wall d’Artagnan looked straight at the older man, with nothing but loyalty and concern in his young eyes. It melted Athos’ heart and he knew right then, that he wasn’t going to hold anything back. He did not need to. And it seemed, he never would have to keep anything from the country man.

As the night grew closer to an end, as more of Athos’ secrets were being spilled, and as the wine had emptied from the bottom of their cups his voice became quieter and quieter, laced with heavy heart break and anguish. What he hadn’t realised was that he had started to cry silently.

The whole way through Athos talked and talked and not once, did d’Artagnan stop him, or comment or even leave. He did nothing but listen intently to his mentor and his friend. When Athos was finished there was a rather large silence. The musketeer took that time to reflect on all that he just told the younger man, and suddenly he thought.

_Does he pity me?_

This sparked a sudden annoyance and white anger inside of him. He didn’t want the boy’s pity. He didn’t want anyone feeling sorry for him, but as he rose his head to shout at him all Athos saw was pure, honest love and respect. All of that sudden rage was washed away and was replaced with the simple feeling of gratitude. D’Artagnan rose from his chair and walked away to the other end. After a few minutes he returned with two mugs of the more finest tasting wine. He placed it in front of Athos and gestured for him to drink it.

“Drink that.” Athos looked from the drink to d’Artagnan then back. With only one smile from him he raised his glass to the boy then through the sweet liquid down his throat, relishing the burning sensation it caused there.

The two of them sat through the night and talked about both of their lives, not holding things back. They listened to each other and didn’t ever question the others decisions or choices.

 Just after midnight the two of them got up from their seats and walked out of the tavern that now was full of people sleeping because of their drinking habits or people singing their pain away with men and woman who in reality, were complete strangers to them.

Outside, it was a cold but beautiful night. Looking up, Athos could see the moon in its crescent form; his favourite phase. The stars were out twinkling against the darkness that was the night sky. He inhaled deeply and began to walk in the direction of the stables, closely followed by d’Artagnan.

“Shall we ride back to Paris? I’m sure we could make it by morning.” D’Artagnan looked up then back at him, before answering his question.

“Or we could rent two rooms at that inn over there.” The younger man pointed to an inn nearby. “I’m sure Porthos and Aramis can handle themselves until we get back.”

Athos followed his finger and nodded. “As you wish. We will ride for Paris in the morning.”

They both retrieved their horses then brought the animals and themselves over to the inn, where they rented two rooms for the night and settled down into their beds. As Athos began to fall asleep he thought about the night. He thought about everything he had told his younger friend and everything he had told Athos. He realised that d’Artagnan may possibly be the only man -or woman for that matter- to ever fully understand him. At first he thought d’Artagnan to be idiotic and irrational, but he now sees he was so very wrong. The young man from Gascony was a man full of wisdom, courage and loyalty and as Athos continues to dwell on the subject of how great a man d’Artagnan is, things begin to stir inside him. Perhaps his feelings towards the boy were stronger than mutual friendship or brotherhood. This prospect both excited and confused Athos. It was new, and alien to him. The musketeer sighed and turned over in his worn out bed. His heavy eyelids drooped shut and he happily welcomed the sleep that embraced him with a dreamless, but pleasant rest.

Unknown to Athos, d’Artagnan was wide awake, with a very wide smile on his face as the exact same thoughts were circling his mind.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! I found it really difficult to write this, but I really enjoyed it. It's my first time writing about the Musketeers, and I perhaps chose the most challenging character to write, but hey. It's done now. Thanks for reading. I really appreciate it.  
> -Anne.


End file.
